The Turn Of A Century

Chapter Two: Dinner Catastrophe

The sun started to set on the British homeland when UK finally left his estate. The nation pleased with his dark navy suit, flipped out his pocket watch. The suit, he is wearing, is relatively new and hasn't been worn in some time. Britain usually doesn't fret too much with his outfit, opting for a simple look. It was barely half past six. 

Placing the watch back in his pockets Britain awaits his carriage. Britain debated about bringing one of his automobiles but decided to go old school instead. Besides, it would give him more time to mull over what he's going to say. Britain has met many nations and empires in his time and none are quite like France. 

Right across the English Channel, France has been a constant thorn in his side. From engineering innovations to colonial endeavors, France is there to challenge him every step of the way. No other nation comes close to the amount of history Britain has with France.  The Englishman is snapped out of his musings when his carriage arrives. 

Before any seeds of hesitation can plant themselves, Britain climbs into the carriage and shuts the door behind him.  As a nation, you learn to leave past conflicts behind and embrace your former enemies as allies. To keep the tide of power tipped in your favor you have to make such decisions. Britain has no problem with that. In fact, he has done it so many times before. When you put aside years of conflict most countries are tolerable(and sometimes, on rare occasions, even likable).  But France isn't like most countries. He has the impeccable talent to get under Britain's skin. Press exactly the right buttons. 

Sure many other countries can annoy him. But Britain is able to put up masks and hide behind them undetected. France is able to see right through those masks. And Britain can do nothing but watch as the masks he's carefully constructed, crumble away.  Britain rubs his forehead, imagining the upcoming headache he'll receive. 

"It's no easy task to deal with that Frenchmen." He mutters to himself. 

Britain decides he's had enough of France swarming his thoughts and starts distracting himself by looking at his gorgeous capital. London is a sight to behold and he's mighty proud of it. His moment of contentment doesn't last too long as he arrives at the hotel France is residing in. Just as he exits the carriage, France emerges from the building. France glances around a bit before his gaze lands on Britain. Britain eyes France's outfits as he walks toward him. A black overcoat is draped over France's white linen shirt. Black trousers round up his outfit. 

"Punctual, aren't you." France remarks as he reaches him. 

"Time waits for no one."  Britain holds the door of the carriage open. 

"True." France sighs dramatically before stepping into the carriage. 

Britain follows him inside and sits on the opposite side of France. 

"So are you going to tell me where I'm going to spend my evening?" France inquires as the carriage starts to move. 

"You will know once we get there," Britain replies.

"Alright," France sighs.